Thoughts, Music, and Healing
by Louis IX
Summary: A girl is offered a gift. A dead mother unlocks strange magic. An accident leaves an unfortunate boy alone. Follow a young woman’s thoughts as she unravels the mysteries around her. And guess who is who.
1. Gifts

**THOUGHTS, MUSIC, AND HEALING**

_Summary: _A girl is offered a gift. A dead mother unlocks strange magic. An accident leaves an unfortunate boy alone. Follow a young woman's thoughts as she unravels the mysteries around her. And guess who is who.

Rated K

_Disclaimer and warnings: _I don't own anything you might recognize: the Harry Potter universe belongs to its owners, and this story is written only for enjoyment; as such, I may own the plot and some non-canon characters and locations, but that's all – and I certainly get no money from it. This work of fiction contains spoilers for some Harry Potter canon books. Some facts and characters are taken from them, although a couple of these could be twisted from the original. Just a bit. The theory behind how magical things work might be changed from what's presented in canon… and in my other stories as well.

_Author's Note: _On a personal level, I have to say that, having found a job at last, I don't have much free time to write. The second-to-last chapter of Mastermind Hunting has been staying at 50 percent for some time, now. Sorry about that, and keep in mind that I will finish it. Think of this work as a re-training exercise for my creative muscle.

**Chapter 1 – Gifts  
**posted August 11th, 2006

_Dear Diary,_

_(giggles)_

_I can't believe my parents got me a diary, for my birthday! A diary, of all things! I wanted a puppy!_

_A want to cry._

_Still, mum said that it would help me, and dad said nothing. As usual. I don't know if he's happy with... what happened._

_But I believe I have to introduce myself, first._

_Dear Diary,_

_My name is Dora Tonks and I'm 11._

_Yes… Dora!_

_Despite me telling my parents I didn't want to, they registered me under my full name at the local primary school._

_That being said, the boys quickly learnt that I'll kick anyone who calls me Nymphadora, or Nymphie, for that matter. The girls, on the other hand... well... let's just say that they don't like me and that's all._

_So... just call me Dora. That's better._

_I hope they won't give my full name at my new school, or some boys will have sore shins, older or not. Dad wouldn't say a thing about that name thing or even about the school altogether; and mum... she gets that smug look each time I ask. It's like when I ask what I'll get for Christmas: I think she knows but she doesn't want to tell._

_Hogwarts._

_That's a strange name. Yet, it's a magic school._

_Magic..._

_I still don't understand everything, but I hope I'll understand once there. Mum said it was the best school of magic in all the kingdom. Dad said... nothing._

_It was weird. One day, that big bird (yes, mum told me it's an owl, I just didn't know, at that time) came down and dropped a letter in my scrambled eggs. Mum and dad shared a look and dad stormed out._

_Since then, he didn't say anything to me._

_Mum told me that dad doesn't like magic, and that she never practised at home because of that. She said that, even so, they still loved each other and that he'd come around. I hope it's soon. I don't like him like that._

_Then, mum brought me to the magical street. Diagon Ally it's called... what a strange name!_

_I got a wand! And mum showed me hers and showed me a couple of spells. That was weird. Imagine discovering a side to your parents. You knew them all your life, and poof! Mum is a magician._

_A witch, she said I should say._

_A witch..._

_My name is Nymphadora Tonks, and I'm a witch._

**To be continued in next chapter: Happenings...**


	2. Happenings

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 2 – Happenings  
**posted August 12th, 2006

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm sorry it took so long to get to you, but several things happened._

_First, mum is dead!_

_I so want to die, too. How could she? She was strong and she was a witch, and she could have... I don't know... transformed the bad guys into jell-o. I want to punish the bad guys when I grow up. I want them to pay for what they did to my mum._

_I'm so sad. I'm crying all the time. Even the boys making fun of my name don't get to me anymore._

_Some don't, though. That cute redhead offered to help me get back in track, and he doesn't make fun of me._

_After all, I spent three weeks in that hospital room. I needed some help to catch up, didn't I?_

_Professor Dumbledore was very kind to me, too. He came several times and offered me lemon drops. They're sour, but I felt better each time I got one... perhaps they're magical, too? _

_He said that dad had recovered already. That he got only a few scrapes and that he healed quickly. That didn't surprise me. After all, dad is a doctor, and he does know how to heal scrapes. They also told me that they told him about his baby girl (me) being alright._

_He (the Headmaster) doesn't tell me everything, though. Once, I heard the nurse speak with him about me, and I caught words like "backlash" and "unknown" but they noticed my being awake and stopped talking about me._

_Oh, I just remembered something: yesterday, an older boy made fun of me, but it wasn't about my given name. In fact, I'm not even sure that it was about my name at all. He was looking down at me, his snake crest square in my face, and he started to spout bad things about a colour. Black, I think. Charlie and his friends came round the corner in the middle of his speech, though, and he left with a glare._

_But I'm confused. What is it about the colour black that's disgraceful?_

_Oops... I'm almost late for Transfiguration. I'll write later._

_Bye._

**To be continued in next chapter: Discoveries...**


	3. Discoveries

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

Alright, you probably noticed already: I considered Ted a Muggle (we don't know much about him, after all... he could have rejected the wizarding world, too – there's a story of Harry Potter like that, somewhere) and I'm sorry I killed Andromeda. I also have Charlie a bit older than Tonks, rather than the same age. Everything was necessary... for the following of this burgeoning story.

**Chapter 3 – Happenings  
**posted August 19th, 2006

_Dear Diary,_

_I just read my two other messages and I noticed that I didn't write the date. Well, they are obvious. The first was after my birthday and the other was three weeks into September. And now..._

_I can't believe it's Halloween already!_

_The school is so... I don't know... beautiful!_

_At the same time, it's not like it's a disguise for us to dress as wizards and witches. (giggles)_

_And the feast! It was loaded! I'm so full I could burst! I hope I can still wear my robes tomorrow._

_I received a letter from dad, yesterday. He says he's sorry about how he treated me and that he'd be glad to see me next Christmas. He said he was sad about mum's accident. I'm sad too, but I don't know why he keeps saying it's an accident: there were bad guys all around, and they used their sticks... er... wands... to throw spells at mum. I've heard all about spells in Defence and I'm sure they were curses. Some were badly aimed and struck the station's front behind us. Then, mum did something with her wand and I don't remember anything afterwards._

_But I do remember the bad guys. It wasn't an accident. When I'll be a grown-up, I'll be an Auror so that I can hurt them for what they did to mum. Charlie told me about Aurors: they're the magic policemen. Charlie isn't interested, though. He only likes Professor Kettleburn and his magical creatures. And he's not a third year yet!_

_And Quidditch._

_At least, he's not like his brother, always in books._

_Back to dad. His letter was about his new job, too. He wrote that he needed to do things and he took a full-time job at a local orphanage – "less demanding than my previous employment but taking more of my time so that I can forget." he wrote. But what would he forget? And why?_

_I'm confused, and the courses aren't helping. Particularly Potions._

_I had only five courses of Professor Snape, but I already see that I don't want to be near him anymore than necessary. He sneers at us all the time, and he takes points for nothing. The first time he spoke my name, I asked that he didn't call me that. Respectfully, mind you. And he took points! And now, he calls me Nymphadora all the time! I was crying about that the first time, but Charlie explained that Snape was like this for as long as anyone could remember. Even the seventh years are wary around him._

_My dorm mates are asleep, now, and I will too, soon._

_Just to finish about my dad: he told me that there were several people that got injured in the same accident that took mum away, and that he went to see each of them to help them._

_Dad's such a hero, sometimes._

_Till later._

**To be continued in next chapter: Meetings...**


	4. Meetings

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 4 – Meetings  
**posted August 8th, 2006

_Dear Diary,_

_I just spent the saddest Christmas... ever!_

_Mum isn't there._

_When I arrived home (dad drove from the station), I called to her automatically, before remembering that she wasn't there anymore. Then, I cried for a long time. Dad, too. And I'm sure his hair wasn't grey, before._

_Christmases were always the three of us. Dad was raised in an orphanage (perhaps that's why he started working there?) and he doesn't have family. Mum... she never spoke about her family. I remember asking her a couple of times and she got a sad look upon her face... I never asked more about it._

_Dad and I spent a few days at the orphanage. The kids are mostly nice with me, but I think that's because they know I'm the doctor's daughter. Dad is good with them. They aren't too kind on each other, though. Once, I noticed them making fun of one of them. John, dad said his name was, and he said he was five or six. Dad also said that he was there because his parents were killed in the accident that got mum._

_That "accident", again! One of those days, I'm going to tell dad about the bad guys. In the meantime..._

_Where was I? Ah, yes. The boy was being made fun of, and, without knowing about the accident thing, I went to help him. Yes, I'm like dad sometimes. (giggles) Besides, I never liked bullies, and if I want to be an Auror, I have to start somewhere, yes?_

_So, I go there and scowl at them (whatever he is, Professor Snape is a good teacher in Scowling and Sneering) and the kids move away. It's not like they flee, but, at least, they go away._

_John is a poor kid who wouldn't hurt a fly. Because of his mangled legs, he has that kind of wheelchair that grown-ups can push around, but he's too small to move it by himself. On top of that, dad told me he was blind, and perhaps mute as well._

_I didn't know this, at that time! And he doesn't have that white cane thing. All he has is those awful scars all over him. I extended my hand and introduced myself. I think I spoke for five minutes without him reacting (except for his wheezing breathing – I was afraid at first that the others had hurt him but dad said he had asthma on top of everything) and, when I ran out of breath without getting an answer, I simply left. Now that I know he's blind, I'm sure he thinks I'm as much a bully as the others were._

_I wanted to say sorry, but I didn't get to see him again. Dad decided to make a trip on the continent. I know that he's unhappy at home. I am. Everything speaks about mum, and it's hard not to cry most of the day. Perhaps France will be different._

_I remember going to the beaches when I was little, but I never took the boat before. I'm excited about this, but, still, I'm sad that mum won't be there._

_I will tell you everything later: dad just asked me to turn the lights off._

_See you later._

**To be continued in next chapter: Holidays...**


	5. Holidays

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 5 – Holidays  
**posted August 8th, 2006

_Dear Diary,_

_How can I start? I'm sorry. So, so, so sorry._

_I forgot you! I went to the attic before leaving for Hogwarts in January, and I cried to sleep looking over mum's old stuff. When I awoke, I was so disoriented that I forgot you there and dad didn't think to search you there – perhaps he didn't want to, too. I only remembered where I left you just now!_

_I guess I don't have much to tell, now. Or, rather, I do have much to tell._

_After all, it has been seven months._

_Last time, I told you we were going to France. Well, it went without a hitch. The boat ride was... interesting, to say the least. I don't know what's got to me, but I can't seem to be so coordinated as I was before. I stumbled over little things and fall over my own face at least once a month. Dad says that it's because I'm growing up and my body is adapting to the changes. It's true that I'm growing up: I'm four feet, now! But I was never so clumsy before! Now, I'm almost afraid to play football with my muggle friends._

_So, the boat ride went fine until I tripped over a large man sipping something from a silver flask. Thankfully, dad was there and he interposed himself quickly and the man left it at that. But I'm sure I was going to get slapped – at the very least._

_France itself was, in fact, like England: cold, snowy, and cold. Only difference was the language. And the cars. How can they drive on the right side? I'm still wondering. Then, we went to Belgium (they drive on the right, too) and back home just in time to get to King's Cross._

_At Hogwarts, the stairs got me tripping a couple of times and I had to see the hospital matron at least once a month. I even broke my arm! Despite smelling foul, her potions mended it so quickly that I asked if I could take some for my dad to use at the orphanage. She told me that no, the muggles couldn't have access to our stuff._

_I was stumped, again. Why was it so? She told me about some Secrecy stuff, but I was so confused that it didn't register. I ought to ask Charlie, next time I see him. In September._

_In the meantime, I'm at the orphanage with dad most of the time. Some kids got lucky and a government's fund sent them to the beach for holidays, so it's less crowded than usual. I met John again._

_I asked Dad, once, and he told me that his full name was John Doe. With a strange face, he told me that people who didn't have a name were called that. I didn't understand, but it doesn't really matter, right?_

_Since I have nothing to do, dad told me to move John around. That meaning pushing his wheelchair from inside to outside (a spot in the shade) and back inside._

_The first time I did so, I remarked that he noticed my arrival. The way his head followed my movements while his eyes weren't was so creepy that I couldn't speak after putting him in his spot. It was only the second time I brought him outside that I built the courage to address him and to reintroduce myself. After all, I'm a Gryffindor!_

_I was so nervous, though, that my speech quickly evolved into muddy babbling. I think I discovered, then and there, that I could be as clumsy with my tongue that I was in general._

_In the middle of all this, though, something stopped me._

_He spoke._

_Or, rather, he shrieked. Or cried. I don't know how to call the sound he made. But it was so sudden and so... strange, that I was frightened, and the garden lamp nearby exploded._

_And here I thought accidental magic stopped when one entered Hogwarts. I was wrong, obviously, since only I, as the local witch, could have made the lamp burst like that._

_And John isn't as mute as dad said. And, since he's not deaf, I'm going to speak with him again. Perhaps I'm like dad. Perhaps I can heal people._

_Perhaps._

_Till later. _

**To be continued in next chapter: Waves...**


	6. Waves

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 6 – Waves  
**posted August 8th, 2006

_Dear Diary,_

_(blush)_

_Yes, I know! Long time, no see._

_I forgot you again, and I didn't even take you back in Christmas despite the fact that I knew where you were. I found out that I preferred using you when I was at home, where mum's absence felt more... real. More painful._

_So, now, time is summer again, and I'm back at the orphanage. Like last year, the exams at Hogwarts were difficult – although fifth and seventh years must have a much harder time, given how they cursed me for stumbling and making noise during their studies. Charlie told me that it was a given and that it was better not to disturb them at all. He should know, with his older brother and all._

_Charlie and I... sometimes, I see the older students walking hand in hand (when they aren't to their ears in homework) and I wonder if it would be romantic for Charlie to hold my hand like that... (blush)_

_As if he could be interested by a klutz like me! (scowl at myself for even thinking that)_

_Still..._

_Still nothing. It's summertime, and, despite desperately wanting to send an owl to my favourite redhead, I have little kids to oversee. Yes, I'm an over-seer! (giggle)_

_Just kidding, Diary. I just hang around, play with the kids, and help John around._

_He seems better than last year, and dad says that, then, it was better than just after the accident itself (he told me that some doctors had said he was brain dead, at first). I didn't speak about the "accident" with dad: he showed me a folder of press articles about it, and, given the coverage, they couldn't be all wrong._

_Could they?_

_Did the non-magical people have anything to say about magic at all?_

_Now that I think of it (and, with Madam Pomfrey's speech in mind) I wonder if the wizarding government is able to hide or disguise magical disturbances. I should ask Charlie, after all: his dad works somewhere in the Ministry, he told me once._

_In the meantime, John seems to be better. In a calmer way than the first couple of times, I speak with him again – _to _him would be a better description: all he does is grunting or hissing._

_He surprised me, once. I brought a portable radio so that we'd have an audio background to fill in the blanks (I can't just speak endlessly, can I?) and I once stumbled on these station for old people. You know which ones? Those which only play classical music. It has nothing on rock, really._

_So, I switch stations again until I find something resembling the Weird Sisters (Charlie introduced me to the Wizarding Wireless Network a while ago, and that group rocks!) John seemed interested enough and I let the music play, and I put the radio in his hands when dad called me from his office._

_The same afternoon, I went to push his chair back inside and I find him with the radio playing the same old music. Thinking that an old employee took advantage of the radio, I go to change stations again, and he grabbed my arm!_

_I was so surprised that I must have jumped at least a dozen feet high. Alright, maybe one or two. Still..._

_And he spoke. "Please." he said. It was only a whisper, and not particularly well spoken, but I recognized it. And I sat there, listening to a cello concerto while looking at a boy that was becoming a mystery._

_(growl)_

_That was my stomach. See you later._

**To be continued in next chapter: Ties...**


	7. Ties

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 7 – Ties  
**posted August 8th, 2006

_Dear Diary,_

_Once again, one year passed, filled with magic courses and discoveries!_

_Guess what? I have a boyfriend! Dad doesn't know, of course. Besides, Charlie and I haven't been farther than holding hands and defending each other's honour against comments. You wouldn't imagine the things my dorm mates invent to try to break us up. The thing is, Charlie's job in that regard seems harder than mine, especially against the Slytherins. And I got that speech once again, about what I thought was a colour._

_Imagine my surprise when Charlie sat me down and explained about the so-called "pure" bloodlines. To see that I belonged to a family that produced only Slytherin and dark-aligned wizards and witches! I think I even recognized my mum's aggressors in some centuries-old portraits. I must have cried for a whole hour afterwards, Charlie patiently holding me up._

_Now, when one of the Snakes even mention the "open hour on renegade Blacks", I understand better. I started to cry, something which pleased them immensely. But I quickly summoned some courage (being a Gryffindor is good for this: it gives the proper mindset for bravery) and returned witty retorts for each insult on "blood-traitors" – I now know that they target my mother. And a cousin of hers, who's in Azkaban right now. Weird, that._

_But I don't have to think about those slimy excuses for human beings – much less students. It's summer, now!_

_To pick up where I last left: last summer, I convinced dad to take John and I to a classical concert. I didn't try very hard: there was a discovery session at the local opera and prices were very low. I was convinced that, John liking that kind of music, he'd like a concert._

_Boy, was I surprised!_

_Not only did he like it (he almost drooled, the poor boy) but I did, too!_

_Well, I still think that it doesn't hold a candle to the Weird Sisters and the like, but, with the acoustics the theatre provided, things were much different than with a tiny radio set._

_Now, one year later, he's really different (while staying the same: he's still blind and still can't use his legs) but he speaks, now (although it's very rare). And his voice... it's... I don't know how to qualify it other than "melodious."_

_And he's not deaf at all. I'm sure he recognizes me by ear, the way he smiles in my general direction when I come. He even smiles and makes jokes. He once told me that he recognizes me arriving because I tripped three blocks from there. I was stunned (I _did_ trip three blocks away) but his smile told me that it was a joke and we laughed. We _laughed!

_However, as soon as I leave (as a proper soon-to-be 15 years old, I have other things to do, like hanging out at the local mall, or owling my friends – and, yes, Dad got me an owl as an advanced birthday present) the other kids return to their previous selves. I once found him lying a couple feet from his upturned wheelchair. He didn't complain – he never does – but I want to find a way for him to avoid this._

_He already has too many scars._

_I have an idea to help him, but I'll have to work on dad. I'm sure that, if John was in the orphanage doctor's family like me, he would have fewer problems. Besides, I already see him as a little brother._

_I'll tell you later._

**To be continued in next chapter: Strings...**


	8. Strings

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 8 – Strings  
**posted August 8th, 2006

_Dear Diary, (I should say "Wotcher, Diary." The boys at the orphanage say it all the time and it's pretty cool)_

_It's one year later than the last, and everyone aged one year. Yup, isn't that profound?_

_Charlie and I are an item, now. I probably shouldn't write it down, but our relationship evolved quite nicely along the regular paths, and, despite the newness of the situation for both of us (the first time was quite awkward, and led to many laughs afterward) we are both happy about its current stage. We even discussed about meeting during the summer. I just have to convince dad, now._

_After last time, I don't know if I have enough ammunition._

_I used all I had in puppy-eyes, demanding pouts, and hugs for John. And dad agreed – to tell the truth, dad told me afterwards that he had thought about it himself. John's last name is officially Tonks, now. Especially since – and I understand it better, now – John Doe never was John's real name._

_John Tonks is my little brother._

_And John Tonks plays the cello._

_Last summer, just as I was getting to the train, an idea had struck me (not too hard, I assure you... although I stumbled because of it and earned a sore elbow out of it – darn!) and I asked dad if it was possible to register him in a music course. Apparently, dad did._

_Given John's height and condition, the cello is a bit smaller than the regular instrument, but John plays it... divinely. Honestly, if I wasn't a Weird Sisters fan already, I could switch sides and listen to classical radio stations. But, yet, it isn't the same thing. John's music has a quality... it's really hard to describe... I'd say that it's rich, and it tugs at one's heart. It's... haunting. It doesn't help that he mostly chooses melancholic melodies to play. You should listen to him playing some suites from Bach... and, when he finishes with the "normal" music, he plays his own._

_The instructor, a tall man with a goatee, has even dubbed him a prodigy and gone as far as waving the otherwise-expensive fees away after the first few months, just to have the privilege of teaching him. Despite being blind, John has a wonderful ear. After the first weeks of handling the cello, he was able to repeat simple works with little difficulty. Now..._

_And, dad doesn't know how, but John's asthma has completely receded. Being a doctor, he knows that some external condition can influence certain illnesses, though, and he deduced that being happy and having means of expressing oneself were two conditions bettering John's life – and health, by extension._

_Now, I have to introduce Charlie to dad and John. And vice-versa._

_Somehow, I feel that John knows something. Each time I speak about my studies – it took some time to break the news to John, but I had decided to be honest with him about magic – and each time I voluntarily skips some passage involving Charlie in the timeline, he "looks" at me with that lopsided smile of his, and I feel like a small kid again. Like when mum had that smug look..._

_I interrupt that line of thoughts before it gets too depressing. I'm not over mum's death, and I probably never will (not until I catch the bastards who did this to her, anyways) but I built a hardness about it, so that the Slytherins' comment won't hurt me like they did before. It's not good, but the real world isn't good either._

_And here I thought I was going to interrupt that line of thoughts..._

_Ah, that sound..._

_John has just started playing, now._

_It's as if he had felt my state of mind. He plays. He helps me._

_He helps me mourn my mum._

**To be continued in next chapter: Families...**


	9. Families

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 9 – Families  
**posted August 8th, 2006

_Dear Diary,_

_Aye, Wotcher._

_I finished my 5th year at Hogwarts a few weeks ago, and I received my OWLs only two days ago. Six OWLs! I even got an Outstanding in Defence! Even dad (who, not so long ago, wasn't fond of magic) congratulated me. I took advantage of the happy situation to make my love life known to him, and he took it in stride._

_So, after sending my faithful Irina (this is my owl, by the way) on a round trip to warn Charlie and to ask for a proper time and place, we met the Weasleys as a family. Theirs, and ours, at their place._

_Needless to say, they were a little surprised of the situation. Despite having four brothers in the same House, Charlie succeeded in keeping our relationship a secret. The true state of it anyways. His mischievous twin brothers would have kept him on his toes, otherwise. Now that we are official, though, Mrs Weasley (a kind woman who's capable of cooking for an army) accepted me unconditionally, and she warned Fred and George to leave the two of us in peace._

_We brought John._

_I don't know what to make of that sentence. Charlie knew a bit about him from me, but even he was surprised by the extent of John's handicap. His parents were uneasy around him at first, and I understood later (Charlie and I explored the orchard behind the house... alone...) that such disabilities were rare in the magical world, because there were ways of healing them quickly and efficiently. When I asked him if John's condition could be treated, though, he didn't know._

_I'll have to ask Madam Pomfrey, but, since she seemed so reluctant to share her gift with muggles, I don't know what to think of it._

_When we came back, we were treated to a sight. Mrs Weasley was standing, her face red while she berated her younger son. Apparently, Ron (who, I believe, is roughly the same age as John) said something hurtful to John. While John was in an orphanage for some time and didn't take offence of it, it seemed to be enough to send the powerful woman on a tangent. To his dismay, Ron was excused from the table and missed dessert._

_Charlie's little sister hadn't said anything, though, but she was watching John's every move attentively. I guess she never met a handicapped (dad's brochure about "political correctness at work" said that I should write "vertically challenged"... even John laughed about this) person before, and she didn't know how to react. Or perhaps she cared._

_We left after some time (Charlie's littlest brother didn't come back from his room) and promised to meet again. Charlie and I were also "allowed" to see each other during the summer vacation, too. I'm so excited! It's just after the event, now, and I'm practically bouncing off the walls. Dad has this smile on his face, and John has one of his lopsided grins as well._

_John._

_He has progressed during the year, too. On top of playing music from several composers (Kodály and Britten, among others), he learnt how to read Braille letters. While not a genius in matters children his age were proficient with, he manages to catch up quite well. He still likes when dad or I read him a story, though – although we don't read him children's stories anymore. The last one we read to him was Dune, and, for a strange reason, he asked to read it by himself afterwards (so we bought him the Braille version – it's much heavier, by the way)._

_It's quite late, now, and, despite my eagerness at meeting Charlie soon (three days! I can't wait!), dad said it was better to go to sleep, now._

_Till next time._

**To be continued in next chapter: Revelations...**


	10. Revelations

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 10 – Revelations  
**posted August 8th, 2006

_Dear Diary,_

_You will never believe what I just learnt! (of course you won't)_

_Let me tell you what happened today: the day started as usual, with John playing the cello with a refreshing music – he sure learnt other melodies than the moody ones I first heard him play; some from Vivaldi, even. It was a good way to awaken and we spent the morning at the orphanage._

_I went to Ottery St. Catchpole with Charlie afterwards and we discussed about the year. Something strange had happened, and, to tell the truth, I don't know what to make of it. A few times during the year, I found myself with died hair. It started lightly, with a few lighter touches, but it recently reached a peak, and I would awaken with hair as red as Charlie's. At first, I thought that it was a prank from the twins (I was ready to prank them back, or worse... tell on them – after all, you don't prank your partners in crime, you just don't; although you don't tell on them either) but they assured me that it wasn't their doing. Since it had happened again during the vacation, it couldn't be a prank from another student, and Charlie and I discussed about it today. He came to the conclusion that I should ask Madam Pomfrey about it – even if I didn't like the woman (she's gentle and all, but she's also a bit overprotective towards students in her wing – I know... trust me on this)._

_This entry isn't about my problems, though._

_This afternoon, (today being a Wednesday) the children were entertained by some local circus artists and dad returned home. Since John wasn't able to see the artists perform, dad took him too. Me? I wasn't going to stay. Once at home, we were treated to a particularly unwelcome sight._

_Professor Trelawney was there._

_I took Divination (and got a A, last year) but the way the old bat teaches it, I've never liked it. Nor her. Her permanently clouded classroom is the only one I can't stand physically, and her gloomy attitude mixed with the fact that she only convinced herself that she was a true Seer, got her on my wrong side._

_I guess I'm more pragmatic than anything._

_But, foregoing this bit of introspection on my part, let's get back to the story._

_She was here with a letter. And a key. In her usual aloof attitude, she started to declaim nonsense about her third eye asking her to be there today, and she handed both items to me before leaving._

_The first thing we did, dad and I, was to open windows to allow fresh air to enter – the loony had burned incense in _our _house!_

_I thought that the letter was about my results, or about a possible Head Girl badge (hey, a girl can dream), or, worse, a discipline action for what I did with Charlie's twin brothers to help them in their nefarious plans (pranking the Slytherins, mostly) – although I was never caught, I'm sure that Dumbledore knows something. I didn't know what to think about the key._

_When I looked at the letter itself, though, I dropped it in shock. Let me tell you what the addressee was:_

_Harry Potter-Tonks,  
Second bedroom on the right,  
Liberty Street, Lambeth  
London_

_That particular combination of envelope, writing, and ink... that looked like an acceptance letter! For Harry Potter? For Harry Potter-Tonks?_

_Dad only said "Well, we now know your proper name, son."_

_Me? I fainted._

_Really._

_After all, given where I'm schooled, I would know more about Harry Potter than dad._

_And, to think that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and the defeater of Voldemort, was my brother? Not only that, but – and my mind still reels – he's invalid, for Merlin's sake! I don't spit on him or whatever (Merlin knows I don't: _I _pushed dad to adopt him). But Hogwarts isn't up to par with the muggle governments' regulations concerning the disabled students. I really don't see John... Harry... pushing his wheelchair up the stairs. And he's blind!_

_There was something else, too: the scar, the infamous lightning-bolt-shaped scar Harry Potter was due to have on display on his forehead... it was hidden under a network of scars from the freak "accident" my mother had been involved in._

_Finally, due to the delivery date, we also learnt something interesting: today, July the 31st, it's Harry Potter's 11th birthday!_

_On an unrelated parallel, I've read about steps in mourning – dad bought a couple books a few days after mum died – and I know a word perfectly describing my current state of mind:_

_I'm in denial._

**To be continued in next chapter: Introductions...**


	11. Introductions

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 11 – Introductions  
**posted August 8th, 2006

_Wotcher Diary,_

_It has been almost a month, and I'm still not able to think about John as Harry Potter. On top of that, John had started to resume playing haunting pieces that tore at my heart, and the mental images I tried to draw of John as a wizard didn't work. I've drawn the line, however, when, one week after the incident, he had climbed the stairs – by dragging himself up; dad was at work – to see me in my room and ask why I was shunning him. Seeing his honest face asking me this broke the ice, and I decided to forget my insecurities and help him._

_I started to tell him all about himself. I hadn't memorized every little fact, but I could tell him what a wizard was in general, and what his history was. He himself went into denial for some time, but he recovered much easier than I (and without external help, too)._

_With dad in tow, we visited Diagon Alley, once, and, seeing Gringotts and recalling parts of a discussion I had with Charlie about his family, I remembered about the key Trelawney had left us. By chance, I had it on my keyring (I'm a bit of a key collector: I have nine of them, of all shapes, in assorted rings... even if some of them don't even work)_

_We went to the bank, and they confirmed that it was a Gringotts key, for Harry Potter. They had to take a blood sample from him and a Witch's oath from me for them to let dad go there (while I stood guard next to John's wheelchair – too many passing customers were throwing glances filled with pity, disgust, or contempt as it was)._

_Dad returned a little shocked and told us that there was a small fortune down there. A fortune!_

_Being the gentle boy I knew he was, John offered it to us. When we refused, he started to ask about how expensive Hogwarts was, and about how he couldn't go there if we wouldn't accept his offer (he certainly knew about it from a discussion with dad during the school year, because I never said anything – I didn't even know how much it was, and dad never told me... to this day, I still wonder why, or how he paid)._

_With that in mind, dad reluctantly agreed, and we returned to the tellers to get a mean of payment that would be easier than going down to the vault. They offer several means, and dad got a anti-theft replenishing purse for John and a check book for him – much like we (the muggles) had; when he asked about cards, though, he only got wide eyes looking back at him._

_We then explored a bit, buying the necessary stuff and looking around for interesting things (I mean, dad and I looked, although John was as excited as we were). However, the general attitude of people around us was starting to get on our nerves and we hurried to the wand shop to finish the day._

_(yawns)_

_Sorry about that, it's really late already._

_Ollivander was as I remembered: old, and creepy. It was a pleasure, then, to see his attitude crumble when he noticed John there. His first reaction was dismissal until he made a double take and gasped. "Mister... Potter?" he asked with as much uncertainty in his voice as a three-year-old asking to play outside when it rains (I don't know why this image came to my brain... honest)._

"_Yes?" John replied firmly, his face turned towards him as though he could see._

_And that was that. The old man recovered easily and, not noticing that John was blind, he started to give him wands to try._

_Er..._

_Let me rewind a bit, there. I'm sure there's something I forgot..._

_There!_

_Dad and I were so preoccupied that the old wand maker wouldn't accept giving him a wand (a wand made someone's latent magical talent real... or so I was told; to be denied one would be the sign that John wasn't a wizard – speaking about that, I now realize that he did accidental magic before... I only attributed these to me... selfish girl)_

_Where was I? Yes... we were so preoccupied that we didn't think about helping John taking the wands._

_But, as it happened, we didn't have to._

_John took every wand proffered without hesitation._

_Now that I think of it, it's surreal. I know he's blind. He can't read a text even an inch from his eyes. And there, he was grasping the wands unerringly! It makes me think of other things, too: how he can move around the house (as much as his wheelchair allows, though) without disturbing anything (while I, who see, stumble upon visible obstacles)._

_Finally, after trying at least fifty wands, the old man seemed to have an epiphany and he got John a particular wand, which – as he said – was brother to the one Voldemort used._

_I sighed (although I'm sure dad and Ollivander thought it was because I was bored – John had that little knowing smile and I'm sure he took no offence of it) and dad paid, before we went to leave the shop. Ollivander called us back, though, and, still looking at John in disbelief that a reputedly powerful wizard was reduced to being pushed around in a wheelchair (his visible opinion, not mine) he gave us the address of a prostheses shop._

_When dad, on a whim, asked him if there was such a shop for eye replacement, the old man asked why and dad indicated John. Ollivander's eyes got wide and, visibly stunned, he mumbled something about the indicated shop doing both legs and eyes._

_(yawns widely)_

_I'm knackered._

_I leave you there, Diary. I'll tell the rest tomorrow._

_Sleep tight._

**To be continued in next chapter: Prostheses...**


	12. Prostheses

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 12 – Prostheses  
**posted August 8th, 2006

_Wotcher,_

_Yesterday, I spoke about Ollivander. Today, I'll start with the prostheses shop._

_We followed the old wand crafter's indication and found a dimly lit shop (visibly not used often by wizards) where we waited for fifteen minutes before somebody came to help us. The woman who came was short. Shorter than that, even._

_Seeing her, I blurted the first thing that came to my mind, and asked if she was Professor Flitwick's sister._

_Far from being offended, she smiled and thanked me for recognizing her._

_I blushed and nodded dumbly, before stepping back so that she could see John._

_When she did, she took a professional stance and started to discuss with John, dad, and I, about the injuries, the time elapsed since he had received them, and other questions I can't remember (and several that neither dad nor I understood)._

_When she was finished (she was jotting down notes all the time), she started to explain to us that magical healing was generally quickly applied on any injury wizards and witches received, but that John's injuries were too old for him to be healed – and that we had come to the proper shop to treat his condition._

_After measuring him and his reactions (or lack thereof), using spells and a measuring tape much like Ollivander's and Madam Malkin's, she jotted down some more notes and asked for when we wanted them._

_That's when dad asked for John's eyes to be treated too (it was fortunate that dad was there, because I was too stumped by the diminutive woman to do anything productive), and the woman directed us to the back of the shop._

_Several eyes were there, some being kept in jars while others were on some pedestal or other. The creepy thing was that some moved – yes, even those in the jars._

_Once again, dad and her discussed about things, with John giving his opinion when asked – he was too polite to interrupt dad or the woman. It was decided that he'd be given hazel eyes (like dad's) that had perfect vision (even at night). Dad chose not to take any option among the magical enhancements, but I noticed John's attitude shifting when he heard all the things that could be done with them. And he was having that smile, again._

_However, the woman warned us that, even though the prostheses were 100 percent efficient, there was an adaptation time that, in John's case, could be important. John thanked her nonetheless, and, after giving our address and paying her, we left the shop._

_On the way home, I thought back about all the questions the woman had asked about John's health disabilities, and I began to panic. I have only one year to spend at Hogwarts, and, despite the fact that I _will_ help my brother, I won't be able to be there all the time. And I'll leave the school soon._

_What will happen, then?_

_What will happen, now?_

_I'll take the diary with me, this year._

**To be continued in next chapter: Trains...**


	13. Trains

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 13 – Trains  
**posted August 8th, 2006

_Wotcher,_

_I'm starting to think that everything doesn't work well (or rather, works differently than normal) around John._

_We came early to King's Cross station, so that we'd have time to get John seated in the Express. The wheelchair was no problem, since dad bought John a pair of charmed widgets: once stuck to an object, they allowed anyone to shrink or enlarge said object with a command word. Of course, John's cello was shrunk that way, and held safely in my brother's trunk._

_Soon, my fellow students started to crowd the platform and I told my goodbyes to dad. My last start-of-Hogwarts-term-goodbyes. Darn, I'm getting emotional... Add to that the fact that Charlie wasn't there and wouldn't be there because he graduated last year..._

_(sniff)_

_Back on the story... When I returned to the compartment, I noticed that a handful of first-year students had taken residence there as well, and, ignoring my apparently sleeping brother (John is good at feigning sleep), they were talking about him. Or, rather, they were talking about Harry Potter._

_Undaunted, I entered and found a place near the window, in front of John._

_The rest of the trip passed without incidents. At one moment, when the other students had left, John talked out of the blue, and asked my opinion about Harry Potter entering Hogwarts. Since the other students had just spent two hours discussing about that, we shared a laugh and started to speak about other things._

_Like his hearing._

_Several times, he could identify people by their steps before they were even close. He could do so in a crowd, too, and, despite being crippled, he could sense the position of people and things around him with an unnatural precision. Answering my questions, he also told me that he had known how many students had been in the compartment, where they had been... and also things that they hadn't said but that he had understood through the inflexions in their voices. For instance, the boy named Neville was extremely insecure, while the Hermione girl was bossy and authoritative._

_After a long trip, we arrived in the station at Hogsmeade, and the students flocked out of the train, and I thought that everything was ready for John._

_As I said before, not everything happening around John does in a normal way._

_I should have seen it coming! What with having Trelawney, of all people! I wouldn't have minded any other teacher (yes, even Snape). As I learnt afterwards, it seems that the fake seeress didn't report to Dumbledore after her "mission" of getting Harry Potter's reply to the acceptance letter. Dumbledore himself seeming taken by other problems, he assumed the best out of his Divination teacher._

_Hagrid played his usual role of congregating the firsties around him, counting them, and getting them to McGonagall. But he didn't see John – I was busy taking him off the train and seated on the wheelchair – and left with the students and the boats. No one can blame him, after all: he counted correctly._

_Meanwhile, the older students didn't take us into account (I'm sure they thought "What would a handicapped boy do at Hogwarts? He must be there to meet someone at Hogsmeade." – we were practically invisible to them) and they took all the carriages._

_I had only one option by now: going by foot with my brother's wheelchair._

_After I stumbled on the pathway for the third time, earning my previously-clean robe another layer of mud, I heard John laugh gently._

"_What is it?" I asked him. I was pretty angry, too. "You find it funny, don't you? With my luck, we won't even be there for your Sorting!"_

"_Can you do magic?" he asked, and my anger abated, to be replaced by shame._

_Of course! I was a witch, after all. One _Wingardium Leviosa _later, I was running full-speed towards the school, a floating John in tow. Per chance, the doors were open and we arrived in the Great Hall in time for the Sorting._

_Thinking back, I made a mistake, then._

_I left John at the end of the line of first years and left him there before heading to my own table._

_Since he was behind the others, and sitting, the teachers didn't notice him. I have the impression that they had been quite taken by a problem with the list when we arrived, too, because they hadn't noticed our arrival. McGonagall didn't call for him, but she made a pause when she should have called him._

_And, when the last two students were Sorted in Slytherin (a tall black boy I don't remember right now, and Charlie's brother, something which surprised several people in the Hall), John was left, alone, in the middle of the Great Hall. McGonagall hadn't looked anywhere past her list and she had started to gather the stool and Hat when Dumbledore stood up, interrupting her._

"_Who are you?" he asked. "And what can we do for you?"_

_John didn't move, his face down and obscured by his hair. I knew he was blind, and didn't need to raise his head to hear people. In his rich voice, he spoke._

"_I'm Harry Potter-Ton-" the rest of his phrase was lost in the collective gasp from the four hundred humans there. Then, people started to speak to themselves, the conversations raising in volume when it was clear that many witches and wizards didn't think that their young saviour could be the wretched boy sitting there. It's not my words: I heard them all around me._

_Dumbledore succeeded in bringing a sort of disturbed calm, though._

_Not before his third try, though._

"_Thank you." John said over the din. "Now, to answer your other question... I'd like to be Sorted, please."_

**To be continued in next chapter: Decisions...**


	14. Decisions

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 14 – Decisions  
**posted August 8th, 2006

_Wotcher,_

_Sorry to have left you, last time, without so much of a warning. I was writing while waiting for Snape to arrive, and I was sure he'd be glad to get my secrets from your pages, dear Diary._

_So, let me continue on what transpired after John's request._

_Dumbledore sent Hagrid to fetch Trelawney and he discussed with McGonagall and Snape about John's future. I know all the conversation, because John's hearing is keen to have heard a fly fart a mile away (once again, I really don't know where this came from... sorry for the disturbing mental image). The end result was that McGonagall was for, Snape was against, and Dumbledore was leaning for accepting Harry to be Sorted. And to think that they didn't know he was blind, yet._

_So, McGonagall strides towards him, and put the Hat on his head gently._

_John told me, afterwards. It seems that the Hat had great difficulties in Sorting him, but not because of indecision or anything else. After all, John had been brave enough to face the school despite everything I told him about it _and _despite his disabilities. Apparently, the Hat couldn't enter his mind for too long at a time. The piece of garment told my brother that two kinds of parasitic energies were battling around his mind and that it was a surprise that he wasn't mad (and that he should see a Healer as soon as possible – and, yes, I told John my opinion about Pomfrey already)._

_Harry Potter was Sorted in Gryffindor, something which pleased several people immensely. Me? I was ecstatic. McGonagall had an almost tender smile on her usually stern face. The Gryffindors cheered the fact that their House had got the Boy-Who-Lived._

_And, in the din, John did something unusual._

_Usually, he knows where things and people are, because he "hears" their presence (don't ask me how... he tried to explain, and finished by comparing himself to a bat). When in a cheering crowd, though, his perceptions can be a bit off, and he gave the hat to where McGonagall should have been... had she not moved._

_And an instant hush fell on the Great Hall as they realized that Harry Potter was blind._

_It was too late, though. He was Sorted, now. And the very vocal attempts of Snape to get rid of him didn't budge Dumbledore. I'm wondering, now: why wouldn't Snape want Harry Potter in Hogwarts?_

_Something else happened that evening: when it was time to sing the Hogwarts song, John kept silent. I realized that he couldn't see the lyrics moving around the hall, but it was something else. He told me afterwards that he tried his hardest not to shriek at the musical massacre the students were doing around him._

_And, when Dumbledore spoke about the music being magic, he snorted. Loudly. I remember that I laughed at that moment, along with several people._

_When it was time to leave to our dorms, I went to push Harry's wheelchair and, as we crossed the threshold, there were several people there already. In the commotion, one of the students addressed John quite loudly._

"_So, the Boy-Who-Lived is now the Crippled-Who's-Blind-as-a-Bat?" the redhead sneered. It wasn't what I wanted from Charlie's brother and I was ready to say something when someone beat me to it. Five someones, in fact._

_Two visibly stupid Slytherins sniggered at the jeer, something which earned them a glare from Ronald, who visibly didn't like them._

"_Is our ickle Ronniekins disturbing our Housemate?" one of the Weasley twins asked._

"_I should hope not, brother mine." the other replied. "We'd have to retaliate."_

"_A bat's _not _blind." John said softly, but I'm sure everyone heard. At the same time, he was "looking" straight at Ron with his unseeing eyes. The red-haired boy started to shift from side to side, but John's face moved with him. Finally, disturbed to find assistance in mindless gorillas and opposition in the terrors that were his twin brothers, he fled from the scene._

_Noticing that the show was over, the others left as well, and only a blond boy stayed afterwards. When we were less surrounded, he came forward._

"_I'm Draco Malfoy." he said, and there was something in his voice that I didn't like. Like his hair, his voice was oily – although _not _obsequious: God forbids the Malfoys to be that way (and, yes, I know he's some cousin of mine). John later told me that it was curiosity, and an attempt at being sociable (no, not friendly)._

"_I'm Harry Potter-Tonks." John replied in kind, extending his hand towards the blond._

_They shook hands and the blond left (towards the Slytherin dungeons, no doubt)._

_Wow... who would have thought that John's life at Hogwarts would be so eventful! He's not there a day and look at what happened!_

_I'll leave it at that for the moment. John just asked my help for something visibly important._

_Later._

**To be continued in next chapter: Classes...**


	15. Classes

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter ****15 – Classes  
**posted April 23rd, 2007

_Dear Diary__, (just figured I'd change my greeting from time to time)_

_One week passed._

_And hundreds of different things happened._

_First of all, I got a letter from Charlie! (squeals excitedly) He has found a job, but it is in a dragon reserve in Transylvania. I know (and he writes) that he's excited about it, but it's so far away... And, if I continue towards a career as Auror, I won't see him very much. (sigh) And, which ever direction I go, there will still be John to think about._

_Speaking about the devil..._

_John asked me to tutor him in some simple charms. Charms that didn't all belong to the first-year curriculum (and even a couple ones I don't even know). In fact, he didn't want precise charms, but general-purposes ones to help him._

_The first one was to __fly, and he justified it – blushing – by saying that he didn't want me to Levitate him up and down the stairs every morning and evening._

_The second was about privacy, and he wanted to know if I could teach him that sort of spells. When I told him it wasn't even in seventh years' curriculum, he seemed to deflate, but I made a quick research in the Library and found a couple of books on the topic. When I asked him what it was for, though, he blushed again and mumbled something. After asking again and getting an understandable answer, I understood that he wanted – no... needed; desperately, even – to play his cello in peace._

_The third spell he asked me was about reading.__ His hearing was extremely acute, and it allowed him to move around the place without disturbing anything and anyone. Remember he told me about echolocation? That's the spirit. But he could only "see" edges in that way, not colours on a flat sheet of paper, and, _a fortiori_, not letters. I found numerous spells to translate written documents into other languages – some even dead – but nothing "raising" letters out of their written support. Besides, I don't remember John making the slightest indication that he knew regular letters' shapes. He had only learnt Braille._

_So, after teaching him the Levitation spells quickly, I spent the week doing some research for his two other spells – the Privacy thing could be resolved by a Silencio, but, even applied around him and not him or the instrument – which would be stupid anyway – it tended to disturb him. He said he "heard" the magic humming nearby._

_During that week, John was introduced to the first-year teachers. Most notably, Snape and McGonagall. Even with m__y warnings about the greasy Potion Professor, that particular course had been a disaster. Not John's fault, though._

_Snape had sneered – John had felt it almost physically – and told the others about the "new celebrity" deigning coming to Hogwarts. It was almost Snape had a life-long hatred of John – but it couldn't be, could it? Come to think of it, my first Potion period of the year – I'm somewhat forced to take Potion to enter the Auror Academy – had been worse than my previous years, and I wonder if Snape's antipathy of John had leaked onto me because he's my brother. Urgh. "Snape" and "leaked onto me" shouldn't belong to the same sentence. Ever._

_Back to John's introductory Potion class. Snape continued to harass him and took points when he couldn't answer some basic questions about Potions. Although, since it was John's very first minutes of his very first period, one had to wonder whether Snape wasn't out of his bounds. I ought to ask Dumbledore. Something else happened, though. At one moment, Snape had been watching John intently – he could tell – and stopped with a gasp, before hurrying to his office, behind the classroom. When he came back, John told me that he had drunk some potion or another, given away by its awful smell._

_However, despite being singled out, made fun of, and not being given any task, John came out of it somewhat proud: he had heard the potion beside him begin to sizzle, and, taking some forgotten component from the table, he had thrown it into the cauldron, avoiding something that could have been nasty. The boy brewing the potion, Neville, had thanked him before being taken points for talking._

_Transfiguration was equally difficult, but for a completely different reason. John could "see edges", but it wasn't precise enough to give him a vision of the matchstick McGonagall asked them to Transfigure into a needle, and he didn't succeed at all. John had already told me that he could hear people's feelings and intentions in their voice, and he had distinctively felt pity and disappointment from our stern Head of House. It was almost worse than Snape whose animosity was a given. Perhaps I could speak to her as well._

_Perhaps..._

_Perhaps now._

_See you later._

**To be continued in next chapter: ****Changes...**


	16. Changes

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter ****16 – Changes  
**posted July 11th, 2007

_My d__ear self-addressed pen pal (or should I say _quill _pal?),_

_Several weeks went by (time flies when you're having fun – although, in my case, you should say that free-time-to-write-in-diaries doesn't come often in seventh year)._

_I __just got a shock, and a shock._

_I talked with Dumbledore, and he dismissed the events in Potion as the retelling of someone not used to the magical world! He had given the image of a grandfatherly figure for so long that I thought he cared! Apparently, he cared more about his lemon drops than the feelings of a student under his care!_

_I was so angry that some other firsties jumped out of my way when I went back to the Tower. I thought it was because I was visibly angry, until I saw myself in a mirror – silently loaned to me by one of my yearmate there. And I gasped, making it fall. After casting Reparo on it, I looked at myself again, and could only wonder. What happened?_

_Why were my hair bright red? Not red as in redhead, but RED. And why were my eyes black? And why was my face so different? Suspecting a prank, I tried every dispelling charm I knew – there weren't many, really – before running to Madam Pomfrey. Even if I didn't like the fact that she didn't want to share her gift with muggles, it wasn't exactly her fault, and she could perhaps help me._

_And, after telling her that it wasn't the first time that my hair changed colour without external influence, she told me that there was a good chance that I was a Metamag... Metorphu... Meta-Morph-Magus. Metamorphmagus! Me!_

_I just came out of the Library, and the explanations about that power astounded me. Apparently, it was as rare as the chance of muggles to have a baby wizard. One in millions. And there hadn't been one in hundreds of years._

_I also remember that, when I left the infirmary, she was heading to the Floo, muttering about calling the Headmaster about it. Given the speech I had just been given by the old man, there's no chance in Hell I'll talk to him right now._

_That's why I'm in my dorm – with any chance, Dumbledore will __slide down the anti-male magical stairs if he tries to come up here – and why I'm hidden in my bed right now, reporting about John and me._

_John... or Harry. Everyone calls him Harry. But only I call him John, and I think he likes it. Perhaps it's because the others think I'm mad to call him that. Whatever._

_He has gotten a special waiver to leave the school for a few days – Snape had a fit – so that he could be fitted with his prostheses. I don't know what it entails, but, as I recall, he had mangled legs and opaque eyes. I wonder if the tiny woman is removing these before adding the mechanical things or not._

_Urgh. I should not think about that. Really._

_Uh oh, __I think I heard Dumbledore knocking._

_Darn!_

_See you._

**To be continued in next chapter: ****Misfits...**


	17. Misfits

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 17 – Misfits  
**posted January 13th, 2008

_Wotcher,_

_Christmas it is, and I've never been so happy to come home. Or, if I rephrase it correctly: I've never been so happy to leave Hogwarts!_

_At some time, when I was years younger, I wanted to have fame and to be recognized by everyone. Now, I take that back. After leaving years in the mainstream of Hogwarts' students, I hate having been placed in the spotlight._

_Damn Headmaster!_

_Not only did he come to my dorm – which raised questions from __everyone__ in Gryffindor – but he also wanted to announce my special ability to the whole school! Only when McGonagall reminded him of my career choice did he find it unadvisable to do so. Even though, he made a public announcement, in the Great Hall, about the fact that I helped the magical community about something._

_I didn't want the spotlight, and I sure didn't want to brag about this. Now, everyone looks at me and whisper when I'm nearby. I think I understand John's feelings a bit more._

_John is happy to be back, too._

_I think it was even worse with him. When he came back from the prostheses shop, he still had his wheelchair, but his eyes and legs were different, looking more... more functional. But the first month with them was sheer torture. Not only were the legs kicking at random times while the nerves' endings reconnected (Flitwick's sister explained it to him, and he repeated it to me), causing all kinds of problems – especially in Potions – but his new eyes also interfered with his previous hear-sight. For a week, he was blinder than he had been before. Then, he had flashes of fuzzy colours appearing at random times, disturbing his concentration – thus causing some more problems._

_It's a tad better now, though. At least, he's capable of walking unassisted for a couple of hours, but he's also capable of seeing perfectly for the same amount of time. And, after an hour of rest, he can do it again. He's quite happy about it, though, and, given the work he had done in theoretical magic while he had been impaired, I'm sure he'll be quick to catch up with his yearmates. If only to spite them of their scorn. Them, and their teachers. Snape being first and Dumbledore a close second._

_I'm counting on it._

_I'll help him, even._

_McGonagall has corrected herself, though, without my asking, even. She even got out of her way to find him some rare textbooks in Braille, a couple of weeks into September – some of them not even being textbooks, John told me: one was about the Animagus transformation._

_Gotta go, now. Christmas shopping, and all..._

**To be continued in next chapter: Pranks...**


	18. Pranks

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 18 – Pranks  
**posted January 13th, 2008

_Dear Diary... Wotcher!_

_Christmas went well. John was happy to learn to use his new limbs and eyes in a calmer environment. He was able to relax, and he even slept late on Christmas' morning... that is, he woke at 6:30! He was also able to play his cello without needing the privacy charms._

_And we (that is, dad and I) discovered something. Apparently, it had started as a random event, but John was able to... I don't know how to say it... "enhance" his instrument somewhat. He told us that he inadvertently touched the cords with his wand, once, and that it had caused all sorts of strange chords to be produced. He was now a bit more proficient with that strange occurrence, and he knew how to make the cello louder, softer, mellower... or more haunting._

_Dad asked about it, interjecting odd ideas in the conversation, and John had that look on his face. An epiphany of sorts._

"_Could I do magic with it?" he asked us. We couldn't answer, of course, but he made the discovery of this his new goal._

_Unfortunately, back at Hogwarts, the constant pressure from the other students slowed this. It got as far as John being tripped the rare times he was able to stand and walk by himself in the corridors._

_John made a mistake, then. Of telling me._

_He hadn't thought it was a big deal, but I didn't want him to be the target of such awful acts. And he told me who it was who pushed him down the stairs: Ron._

_And I told the twins._

_The next morning, the Slytherin redhead found himself the target of several pranks, made by yours truly and my two accomplices: his legs were suddenly too wobbly for him to stand up, and he found his eyesight diminished to tunnel vision._

_Needless to say, he complained._

_Needless to say, several people victims of his ostracizing remarks began to laugh._

_Needless to say, he fled – or tried to... crawling on the floor isn't as dignified as walking off... but it suited his snaky nature._

_A few minutes afterwards, Snape entered the Hall and frowned at the sight. With a glare to John, he cancelled the spells. I hope my message entered Ron's thick skull. And stayed there._

_Although... if it didn't, we can always start again._

_On another subject: personal study._

_Over the break, I read everything I could find about Metamorphmagi – Charlie even sent me a book he found in a wizarding settlement near his dragon reserve. And John read almost as much about Animagi._

_And, the Weasley twins playing interference, I stole enough Potion ingredients from Snape's cupboard to make at least four sets of the Animagus-shape-revealing-and-unlocking draught._

_We had a fright._

_I ladled the gooey substance in the silver bowl three times, for the twins and me. John insisted on going last, and we had to upend the cauldron to get the remains for him. Reminiscing, I think he got a largest portion than intended. And we didn't even take his weight into account!_

_He dropped to the floor, out cold. Fortunately, in the few minutes it took the twins and I to react and start carrying in the corridors, he awoke with a smile. And a headache which Madam Pomfrey healed quickly._

_Me? I'm disappointed... I don't have an animal shape!_

_I could have guessed it, though: in the books on Metamorphmagi, I found a small reference on Animagi, and it said that there has been no known case of people being both. It leaves me on my self-imposed training to improve my ability._

_The twins train, too: they are foxes, and, inspired by the prank-related use of their form, they have already tried to transform a few times._

_John wouldn't say... but he has that lopsided smile of his. And I often see him in the Library, pouring over a particularly large tome (his vision has settled enough to allow him an hour of normal vision every six or so). A tome I only succeeded in getting the title of: Magical Creatures of the Night._

_I can only wonder... an owl?_

**To be continued in next chapter: Leads...**


	19. Leads

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 19 – Leads  
**posted January 13th, 2008

_Aye! Wotcher!_

_Hogwarts is funny. But not for us 7__th__ year. Easter has just passed, with the muggleborns going into a wild rabbit/chocolate chase. Us? We study like mad, while the sun shines outside._

_Apparently, we aren't the only ones secluded in the dark, as John is often inside as well. It has been some time since the last I wrote, and I'm sure he found another place to play cello – I never see him in the mornings anymore, and I'm sure he's not in his dorm. Perhaps it's because of my yearmates studying all night long._

_He's hiding something, though. He asked me something, once._

"_Nym?" (he's the only one who can call me like that without getting hexed)_

"_Hmm?" (I was deep in a –coincidence– Defence essay)_

"_What do you think about Quirrell?"_

_That got my attention. "Why?"_

"_He's... shifty. He isn't quite there."_

_I snorted. "I can tell. He hadn't been all there all year. What with the troll and all..."_

"_The troll..."_

"_Yeah. A good Halloween prank, I'd say. Although I'd be probably best betting he got afraid of his own shadow – as usual."_

_I smiled at my own joke, but he only frowned and muttered something._

"_Whaddaya say, bro?"_

_He looked at me. "It wasn't a joke. It smelled really awful, that day."_

_I gaped. I had forgotten his heightened senses. Blindness tends to do that, I knew. "A... troll?"_

"_Yeah." He nodded. "And Snape caught Quirrell trying to get past the Cerberus..."_

"_WHAT!" I exclaimed, before falling unconscious._

_When John woke me up, I spoke in a lower volume. My yearmates are an awfully tetchy lot, at this particular time, and I didn't want a second Stunner._

"_How... why?"_

"_I heard them quarrelling about it... again." he said. "They were three stairs down and in a locked classroom, but none of them thought to cast privacy spells."_

"_...and? What does the stuttering fright-prone teacher have to do with the greasy-haired git?"_

"_Apparently, Snape told Quirrell to stop looking for something. Something that was well-protected."_

_I paused, looking around. The discussion left me uneasy, but I noticed that the others around us were completely silent... despite moving and talking. I looked at my sly little brother. "Privacy charm?"_

_He nodded, smirking. That reminded something else._

"_How is it going? Your form, I mean. What is it, again?"_

_His smirk almost disappeared but came back when I asked the last part. "I never told you."_

"_Yeah, I know." I nodded. "But I'd like to know."_

"_I can't transform." he said, his smirk disappearing._

"_Why?"_

_He looked down. "The legs are getting in the way."_

"_Oh." I said, before thinking of random animals with human legs in place of their own. It was so funny that I started to smile, before bursting into laughter._

"_It's not funny." he said._

_Despite assuring him that it _was _funny, he removed the privacy charm and I found myself unconscious again._

"_Darn!" I exclaimed –softly– when I woke up again._

"_Language, Nym."_

"_Seriously... you can't transform."_

"_Yes."_

_I frowned. "Have you asked the shopkeeper? Perhaps there are prostheses that interact with the transformation and others that don't? Or perhaps you can take them off? Like lead on a diver's equipment, you know?"_

"_I can't remove them, but thanks for the idea!" He smiled widely. "I already feel lighter!" he exclaimed suddenly, standing up and barely avoiding a curse ray from another annoyed upperclassman. After grasping some loose parchment and my quill –darn!–, he left the common room with a spring in his steps._

_Dear Diary... I hope this won't be the last time I write, but this year is coming to a close, and I'm not sure to have time to write again before the NEWT finals are over. Whatever comes our way, I hope John will be fine. And happy._

**To be continued in next chapter: Wings...**


	20. Wings

Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

**Chapter 20 – Wings  
**posted January 13th, 2008

_Wotcher!_

_This concludes my school year. Years, plural._

_I MADE IT!_

_After a month and a half of waiting, I just received my NEWT results... I made it to Auror Academy!_

_I'm so happy._

_John's happy for me, too. He knows I won't be with him next year, but, with the twins backing him, he won't have too many problems. Apparently, that Malfoy boy hasn't moved from his careful-and-cold friendship either. On the other side, Charlie's brother Ron is temperamental and incredibly bad-mouthed, but... what can I do?_

_I'm also happy for John, because he had received a positive answer from the woman at the prostheses shop, a mere couple of days after sending his request. There _are_ some prostheses specifically made for Animagi –even Metamorphmagi!– that can handle the person's magic shifting them. The thing is that their raw appearance is metal. She had answered his owl with a booklet with all the possibilities, and he had had tears of joy and relief for two days afterwards._

_At school, strange things happened between then and the finals, though. Quirrell was reportedly missing and John made an innocent remark about some voluntarily-produced discordant sounds counteracting music's soothing power. A remark that made me think that he knew more than anyone on a stuttering teacher's disappearance. But he stayed tight-lipped after that._

_We also had a fire: the groundskeeper's hut burned to the ground... a cooking accident, they said – but, as usual, John had his lopsided smile telling me he knew more about it. I'm sure I heard him say something about "fire on wings", whatever that means. Still, I wonder how a large man like Hagrid could have lived in the wooden hut so long without breaking it. He now lives in the castle like everyone – and his quarters aren't easy to miss, with his snoring!_

_The morning after the train ride back to London, we went to the prostheses shop, and the woman started working on him immediately, shooing dad and I out. It wasn't before the evening that the two of them came out. John had kept his prostheses-related reflexes, and he was able to walk quite well. The woman... was wide-eyed. It took three tries for dad to make her react to him and three more tries for her to remember that we had to pay._

_Were dad less honest, he could have left without paying._

_Once home, I cornered John._

"_Harry." I said, frowning and my hands on my hips._

_He froze. I only called him that to yell on him – which was rare. "Yes?"_

"_Time's up. What's your sign?"_

_He blinked._

_Dad was looking between the two of us, curious._

_...and John sighed. "Alright. One."_

"_One what?"_

"_One form."_

_That struck me as odd. "What do you mean? You have multiple..."_

_My sentence never found its end when I noticed his smug expression. "It has been painful, but I think I got too much potion for a regular dosage. I have two."_

"_What are they?"_

"_I said one."_

_I looked at him in the eyes... His hazel eyes that weren't even his... I couldn't look for long. "Alright. What is it?"_

"_Fitting." he said, before shrinking._

_The small creature... dark wings fluttering..._

_Harry's Animagus shape is a bat._

_I broke down laughing._

**To be continued in next chapter: Reptiles...**


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